


Und Leuchtet Als die Sonne

by gwyllgi



Series: Herc/Raleigh Bingo Challenge [8]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh takes a job to earn some extra cash for the holidays.  Little does he realize the complications—and joys—that come with it.  <i>As he looked down at the bells adorning the curled toes of his shoes, Raleigh wondered—not for the first time—what he'd been thinking.</i></p><p>Written for the Herc/Raleigh Bingo Challenge prompt: Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bingo Card

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from my favorite carol, _In Dulci Jubilo_.
> 
> For lack of anywhere better to put it, the first chapter is my bingo card. Click on through to chapter 2 for the fic.


	2. Und Leuchtet Als die Sonne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the probably-terrible Google translations that are included here.

As he looked down at the bells adorning the curled toes of his shoes, Raleigh wondered—not for the first time—what he'd been thinking.

"Stop looking so lost." Mako appeared at Raleigh's side and elbowed him, and the bells on her cap jingled merrily. Why was everything laden with bells? "They're only children. They won't eat you, I promise." She linked her arm through Raleigh's and drew him toward the door of the small changing room, which was still full of men and women in varying stages of elfdom. "You might want to watch out for the mothers, though."

"Great." Despite his dry tone, a smile crept across Raleigh's face. "I bow to the voice of experience. You'll go easy on me, right, Mori-sempai?" He laughed at Mako's expression. "Careful, or it'll freeze that way." Mako giggled and made to pinch his arm; he dodged—or tried to—and ran into someone behind him. "Hey, sorry," he began, but was cut off by a snort.

"Watch where you're going, ya drongo. You'll hurt someone, flailing about like that, and I don't want it to be me."

Raleigh moved aside when the other man pushed him, then watched him stomp away toward Santa's Mountain. "OK, did someone piss in his kringle?"

Mako's mouth formed moue. "That's Chuck. He's always like that—don't let it get to you." She considered Chuck's retreating back, then smiled up at Raleigh. "He's great with the kids, really—one of the best. He's just got some... interpersonal issues."

"You can say that again," Raleigh muttered, then trailed after Mako when she followed Chuck to the Mountain. The other elves had begun to assemble and stood about in small groups; Raleigh recalled the cliques he'd avoided in high school and gave a silent prayer of thanks that Mako was here for him now. He noticed Chuck stood alone off to a side, his body language stand-offish.

If he was always so rude, it was no surprise he was alone—no matter what Mako said.

"Gates are opening in five, elves."

Raleigh looked up at the platform at the top of the Mountain, where Santa was setting into his large, overstuffed chair. Raleigh wouldn't be working with him—the spot at Santa's side was too high-profile for a probationary elf, so Raleigh was relegated to line management. He returned Mako's wave when she slipped away to climb the access stairs at the back of the Mountain. To his surprise, Chuck joined her, but Raleigh had no time to ponder that as he took his position and the gates were opened.

No amount of training could have prepared him for the tsunami of children that broke over him, milled about his legs with grabbing hands and high-pitched voices. Raleigh froze with momentary panic, unable to catch his breath until one of them nearly headbutted him in the groin and survival instincts kicked in.

"Hey, kids," he called as he turned just enough to protect his sensitive parts, "Let Jingles show you to Santa!"

He'd never gambol as some of the other elves doing, but he managed a short jig as he steered the mass of noise toward the cordoned lines to see Santa. He jingled every damned bell attached to his person and grinned so wide his cheeks hurt—but it was worth it to see the happy faces of the children as they gazed in awe at the jolly man they so longed to see.

He'd been at it for barely an hour—and damn but did his feet hurt already—when he felt a tug at the edge of his tunic. He looked down to see a little boy watching him with shining eyes. "Are you looking for Santa, little boy? Right this way!"

The boy seemed uninterested in Raleigh's guidance and tugged at his tunic again. "Mr. Elf," he said, with a lisp that would be endearing for a couple more years, at least, "why are you so _big_?"

Raleigh blinked. He could hear a few snickers, though he was uncertain whether they were from the attending parents or his fellow elves. "Well," he said as he knelt next to the boy, "that's a secret. Can you keep a secret?" When the boy nodded, Raleigh leaned in and whispered as loudly as he could manage, "I'm part of Santa's Secret Service. I help keep Santa safe, so I have to be big."

If anything, the boy's eyes got wider. "Oh." He patted Raleigh's cheek with a sticky hand (Raleigh tried not to think too hard about that) and said, "I won't tell!" He giggled when Raleigh tousled his hair, and scampered back to his mother, still close enough for Raleigh to hear him filling her in on the giant elf who protected Santa.

Raleigh grinned and brushed dirt off his knee as he rose. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

"Congratulations on making it through your first day," Mako said as she pressed a cold can to the back of Raleigh's neck. "I knew you could do it."

Raleigh groaned and burrowed further into his arms, crossed on the break room table. "I can't feel my _legs_ , I've got fudge all down my front, and my ass is _killing_ me."

Mako, damn her, laughed. "I told you to watch out for the mothers, didn't I?" She left the can at Raleigh's elbow and rubbed his shoulders. "Want me to drive home?"

"You angel." He peeked at her, smiled at her fond look. "I knew you loved me."

"Why don't you two get a room? No one wants to see you fawning over each other."

Raleigh plunked his head back into his arms, sighed, then lifted it again to look at Chuck. "Good night to you, too. Let's go, Mako."

Mako called a good-night to some of the other elves as Raleigh rose and struggled to make it to the door without limping. He'd thought he'd been in good shape—Hell, he was in _great_ shape—but apparently working out did not prepare a person for eight hours of prancing about on concrete in thin-soled shoes. By the time he made it to his car, he was clomping inelegantly and counting the steps until he could be off his feet again.

He fell into the passenger's seat, closed his eyes, and nearly dozed off in the short span of time before Mako joined him. He cracked open an eye to watch as she adjusted the seat—she couldn't even reach the pedals with his configuration—and sighed. "O'Cleary's going to kick my ass if I show up late tomorrow, but I think I want to sleep until at least noon."

Mako smiled as she started the car. "Do you want to see if Frosty's Flyers still needs an operator? It might be easier for you."

Raleigh sighed again, closed his eyes as Mako put the car into gear and began the drive back to their tiny apartment. "You saying I should give up? I'm not really good at quitting."

"You're stubborn," she corrected, but Raleigh could hear the amusement in her voice; she always seemed to sound that way around him. "But you wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Raleigh hummed in agreement—it was true enough. "I think I'll stick it out. It's only for a month; I can handle that, and sleep in at the end of it, right?"

"Unless O'Cleary kicks you out for falling asleep in review." Raleigh didn't need to open his eyes to see Mako's grin; he could picture it perfectly, an image he carried with him as the motion of the car coupled with exhaustion lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Chuck Hansen was going to be the death of him.

With a week under his belt, Raleigh had thought he'd have settled in, maybe even made a few new friends. Instead, he had found himself harassed daily by a mouthy brat who seemed to think that everything Raleigh did was deserving of criticism. It didn't help that Chuck's comments were usually quite helpful.

If only they weren't delivered with the hostility of a honey badger.

Raleigh let it wash over him—he hadn't spent all of Jaz's rebellious years learning nothing about handling confrontation—and adopted as zen an attitude as he could. Unfortunately, his failure to rise to the bait seemed only to encourage Chuck, until Raleigh had the honor of becoming the sole focus of his resentment.

Thank God for Mako.

She ran interference when she could—even scolded Chuck a few times in exasperation. She listened to Raleigh complain about him, whether on the drive back to their apartment when they shared a shift, or over his morning Cheerios. She let him vent without comment and he loved her for it; she kept him sane, when the combined pressure of Chuck and graduate studies threatened to drag him under.

It was after a particularly long shift, in hours and attitude, that Raleigh and Mako left at the same time Chuck did. Raleigh laughed as Mako relayed the story of the kid who'd spilled hot cider all over one of the other elves, while he absently dug in his pockets in search of his keys. He had taken two steps before he realized that Mako and Chuck had both stopped walking, and he looked up.

A man lounged against the side of Raleigh's car, nonchalantly sipping from a cup emblazoned with the Village's logo.

Raleigh eyed the man appraisingly. He was fit and carried himself with purpose, but between the three of them, Raleigh was certain they could take him if it came to it. He opened his mouth to demand an explanation, only to be beaten to it by Chuck.

"What the Hell are _you_ doing here?"

The man straightened and grinned toothily at Chuck—there was nothing reassuring in that expression. "Go on home, Chuck. I'm not here for you." His gaze shifted to Raleigh. "I'm hoping to have a moment of Mr. Becket's time."

Raleigh's brows drew together. "How do you—" he began, but was cut off by Mako.

"Raleigh, this is Hercules Hansen—Chuck's father."

Shit.

Judging by the almost predatory look in Herc's eyes, Chuck took after his father. Raleigh fought a grimace and looked at Chuck. "Sorry, Mr. Hansen, but I can't now." He spread his hands out in front of him and shrugged. "I'm Mako's ride."

Mr. Hansen eyed the keys in Mako's hand—so _that_ was where they'd been—and raised an eyebrow. "Easy enough: I'll give you a lift when we're done." The toothy grin reappeared. "It won't take long, Mr. Becket. I promise."

"Dammit, old man," Chuck snapped, but abruptly shut his mouth at a stern look from his father.

"Don't you start, Chuck. Mr. Becket and I are going to have a word." He gestured toward a late-model car parked down the row from Raleigh's. The set of his jaw brooked no argument, and so Raleigh meekly followed him and settled into the passenger's seat, nervously buckled himself in.

"Mr. Hansen—"

"Herc." Herc's eyes met Raleigh's, little more than a gleam in the dark. "Call me Herc. If you and I are going to be friends, it's only fair."

Raleigh fought the urge to fidget. "Sir, I don't understand what you want from me." He frowned and wondered if he should be offended when Herc laughed.

"Just a drink and a chat, Raleigh." Raleigh's name had no right to sound so exotic as it rolled off Herc's tongue. "Don't worry—it's my shout." He glanced at Raleigh again, then fixed his eyes on the road as he pulled into traffic. "Do you have a regular pub?"

"No, sir." Raleigh drummed his fingers against his thigh and bit his lip. "What do you mean, we're going to be friends?"

Herc chuckled. "Relax, Raleigh. I'll get you home in one piece, no harm done."

They lapsed into silence for the rest of the ride, until Herc parked the car and led him into an unassuming bar with _Finn's_ painted over the door. Herc directed him to a booth in the back and headed for the bar.

Raleigh watched Herc in bemusement, studied the ease with which he carried himself; he was a man who knew his place in the world and how to fill it. As he laughed with the bartender, he showed none of the subtle threat he'd displayed before, and Raleigh wondered which was the reality of Herc. He was still lost in thought when Herc returned with two pints of beer and set one before Raleigh.

"Something on me?" Herc asked, and Raleigh started.

"No." Raleigh paused, considered his words as he dragged a finger through the condensation on the side of his glass, finally gave up on subtlety. "What did you want to talk to me about, sir?"

"Herc," Herc corrected. "I appreciate the respect, but I said we were going to be friends, didn't I?" He took a long pull from his glass before he continued. "Chuck tells me you're a student, Raleigh. What's your field?"

Raleigh blinked; the topic was not what he had expected. "Astrophysics, sir. Herc," he corrected after a chiding glance. "I'm in the last year of my graduate program."

"At Princeton?" When Raleigh nodded, Herc let out a low whistle. "That's impressive. Why the hell would you be working at a place like Santa's Village?"

Raleigh flushed. "I needed some extra money," he said, then bit his tongue when it came out more defensively than he'd intended. "My scholarship doesn't cover extra expenses, and there's something I need to buy."

Herc nodded. "I never made it to uni myself—went straight into the RAAF after I got my HSC. Retired a few years ago, just before we moved here." He took another drink. "I still can't believe how fucking cold it gets here."

Raleigh laughed as the knots in his stomach loosened. "This is nothing. I grew up in Alaska—this time of year, we were lucky if we hit zero."

Herc grimaced. "This should be the start of summer, not cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey." He shifted, took a drink, and grinned at Raleigh. "So, I've been wondering: how did you meet Mako?" At Raleigh's puzzled look, he shrugged. "Her father's a good friend. I've known her since she was small."

"She answered my ad for a roommate." Raleigh looked down at his glass and smiled as he remembered. "My last roommates had graduated and moved out, and rent was too much for just me. Most of the applicants were—well. Some were too loud, some had a problem with the gay thing." He glanced at Herc, whose expression remained unchanged, set in lines of polite interest. "I was getting ready to give up when Mako answered it. She'd been having trouble finding a place, too, and—well, we hit it off."

"So you were OK with a female freshman for a roomie?"

Raleigh nodded. "Sometimes you just know you're meant to be with someone, you know? We joke that we're soulmates, but I think it's really true."

"Even with 'the gay thing'?"

Raleigh blinked, then laughed. "It's not like that. We're not dating, just friends. But, you know, she's more like a sister than my actual sister."

"You have siblings, then?" Herc sat back in the booth. One hand kept a firm grip on his glass, and Raleigh found himself focused on the curl of Herc's long fingers. "Raleigh?"

Raleigh blinked, flushed again. "Sorry. Yeah, I've got a brother and a sister. Yancy's older, Jazmine's the baby." He grinned as he toyed with the rim of his glass. "I used to give Jaz hell—maybe that's why we're not really close—but Yancy and I were always tight, even before—"

Herc made no comment when Raleigh snapped his mouth shut, only waited a few seconds before he spoke. "I've got a younger brother myself—Scott. I was always getting him out of scrapes; he was a bit of a brawler. Hell, he still is, but now he's old enough to handle his own damned problems." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "I wonder sometimes how it would have been if Chuck had had a sibling, but it wasn't meant to be."

Raleigh bit back a snide comment—it wasn't fair to judge Herc against his own resentful feelings toward Chuck. "I can't picture him with one," he said instead.

Herc smiled wryly. "He wasn't always like this. Angela's death hit him hard." He raised his gaze to meet Raleigh's eyes, "He used to be such a happy kid, but after she died, he started acting out, pushing people away. I didn't know what to do with him, really. I wasn't around much when he was younger, and, by the time I was there for him, he didn't need me."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Raleigh said inanely, not knowing what else to say. "How old was he?"

"Eleven." Herc sighed and took another drink, then stared into his beer as he returned the glass to the table. "I remember him screaming at the hospital when I told him that his mother wasn't coming back. I didn't have the first clue how to handle it—so I didn't. Just let him scream and dragged him home."

"I'm sure you did the best you could," Raleigh said—it sounded lame even to his own ears—then hid in his own beer, using the drink as an excuse to look away from Herc's tight face. By the time he'd lowered his glass, Herc had composed himself again.

"I didn't, but I appreciate the vote of confidence," Herc saidwryly. "Just about the only thing I did right was Max. His bulldog," he explained at Raleigh's confused look. "I got him as a puppy for Christmas when Chuck was fifteen. Happiest I'd seen him in years. Actually smiled at me before he remembered he hated me." Herc scratched the side of his neck, expression distant. "Good dog, Max. Probably the only friend Chuck has."

Raleigh couldn't argue with that; he'd never seen Chuck spend time with the other elves, and no one ever met him after his shift. Still, he found himself saying, "I'm sure that's not true. Maybe he has friends from school."

Herc shrugged. "If he does, he's never talked about them, and I've sure as hell never met them." Herc pinned Raleigh with a sharp look. "As a matter of fact, the only people he really talks about are you and Mako."

Raleigh grimaced. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"It's not always bad." Herc dragged a finger through the condensation on the table. "He means it that way, but I can tell he admires you. He's just... well, I'm sure you've noticed that he's a little awkward. He doesn't know how to express it, so he channels it into anger."

Raleigh raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I think you're thinking of another Chuck. The one I know hates my guts."

"No." Herc shook his head. "I may not be an expert, but I've learned a thing or two about him. He doesn't hate you. Which brings me around to why I asked you out tonight." Herc rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you think you could be friends with my boy?"

Raleigh stared at him, not certain he'd heard correctly. "You want me to be friends with the guy who hasn't gone a day without criticizing me? The same guy who's never had a polite conversation with me?" Raleigh shook his head in disbelief rather than decline. "How am I supposed to manage that?"

Herc shrugged, though the sheepish quirk of his eyebrows lingered. "Just don't give up on him, yeah? He'll come around eventually; you just need to be there when he does. Raleigh—" Herc looked away, flicked his gaze around the bar before settling it on Raleigh again. "I know it's a lot to ask, but there's no one else."

Raleigh sighed and dropped his head, reached up to rub his temples. There was no way he and Chuck would ever be friends—but there was no way he could turn down Herc and feel good about himself. "Fine," he finally said as he lifted his head to meet Herc's eyes again. "I can't promise the friend thing, but I'll give him a chance."

Herc's smile brought the knots back to Raleigh's stomach. "That's all I can ask." He extended his hand across the table. "I appreciate it. Chuck will, too."

Raleigh closed his hand around Herc's, registered the firm grip as they shook. It wasn't until Herc cleared his throat that Raleigh realized he'd let his hand linger long beyond the normal constraints of a handshake, and he jerked his hand back and flushed again. "I'll do my best, si—Herc."

* * *

It was as awkward as Raleigh had expected when he showed up for his shift the next day. He and Herc had lingered over their pints, talked about inconsequential things until Raleigh had realized the time and groaned over an early class. Herc had driven him home and he'd snagged a few hours of sleep, but he was still dragging and wishing he could mainline coffee to keep his energy up for the kids.

Chuck cornered him while Raleigh was putting on his elf ears.

"What did my old man want? He wouldn't tell me anything."

Raleigh glanced at him, then back at the mirror as he worked on affixing an ear. "If he didn't tell you, there's probably a good reason." Raleigh tilted his head, studied his reflection, nodded with satisfaction before he turned to the other ear.

"I don't believe you." Chucks frown was more of a pout and actually pretty damned adorable—not that Raleigh was masochistic enough to tell him that. He'd never hear the end of it. "It was about me, wasn't it? I have a right to know."

"If he'd wanted you to know, he would have invited you." Raleigh bit his lip as he positioned the second ear, holding it in place until it was fixed. "Shouldn't you respect his privacy?

"No."

Raleigh nearly laughed, but instead simply donned his jingly cap and turned to face Chuck. "You really want to know?" When Chuck nodded, Raleigh sighed. "Fine. He wanted to make sure I wasn't screwing with you."

Chuck looked poleaxed for a moment before his expression turned suspicious. "Why would he think that? You don't have the balls to mess with me."

Raleigh shrugged and smothered a grin; the context Herc had provided regarding Chuck's motivations helped put a pin through Chuck's blowhard attitude. "Apparently, you complain about me so much that he figured I was giving you crap. We got it straightened out."

Chuck flushed and scowled, wheeled around to stalk away. "Whatever. I don't need a babysitter."

Raleigh watched him go and grinned. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought, keeping his promise to Herc.

* * *

It was over ears again when Chuck approached him after their shift. Raleigh watched him approach in the mirror as he peeled off one of his elf ears and dropped it on the counter, rubbed the spirit gum remover over the lingering stickiness on his skin. When Chuck paused behind him and fidgeted, Raleigh decided to give the kid an in. "You're lucky, you know. You've got a great dad."

Chuck snorted, then elbowed his way to stand beside Raleigh and began to remove his own ears. "What do you know?"

"I know what shit dads are like. Mine took off when I was fifteen—waited for Mom to die, then bolted." Raleigh looked down at his discarded ear prosthetic and sighed. "At least he stuck around that long, I guess."

"What did you do?"

Raleigh blinked. Chuck sounded grudgingly interested rather than antagonistic, and Raleigh was afraid to look at him lest he break whatever mood Chuck was in. Instead, he turned his head to peel the prosthetic off his other ear. "My older brother—Yancy—had just turned eighteen, so he got custody of our sister and me. Jaz is younger; she was twelve when Mom died, and she'd been a daddy's girl, so she took it hard." The second elf ear was dropped next to the first. "It sucked for Yancy, mostly."

Chuck followed when Raleigh left to stow the prosthetics in his locker and begin the long process of stripping out of his costume. "He took care of you?"

Raleigh nodded and sat on the bench in front of the lockers to work off his shoes. "Worked three crap jobs to keep us afloat. Never complained. He had to cancel his college plans to do it, too. He'd gotten into a good school, but he just dropped it all for us." Shoes off, Raleigh stuffed them into his locker and began unlacing his tunic. "He made sure Jaz and I got into college, even sent us money to cover extra living expenses so we wouldn't have to work unless we wanted to."

"He sent you to Princeton with spare change?"

Raleigh chuckled at Chuck's skeptical tone. "No. I lucked into some scholarships and a fellowship program; I have a few living expenses left, that's all, and Mako chips in on the big ones like rent and gas." When Chuck's doubtful expression didn't change, Raleigh poked him in the ribs and chuckled again when Chuck slapped his hand. "You don't think I'm smart enough, do you? I worked my _ass_ off to earn my acceptance, thank you."

Chuck scowled. "I didn't say you were stupid."

"You thought I was just some dumb jock, don't deny it." Raleigh grinned to take the sting out of the words, then pulled his tunic over his head and rose to squirm out of his heavy tights. "I like to work out, but that doesn't mean I let my brain go."

"So, if you don't need money for living expenses, why are you here?"

Raleigh paused, then looked at Chuck. "Yancy gave up everything for us. Even now, he always makes sure we have everything we need to keep up with class—he sent me a new laptop last year, even though he's still got a crappy old desktop that's practically as old as Jaz. So Jaz and I agreed: we'd earn some extra cash so we could buy him a new computer." Raleigh stuffed his costume into the locker and retrieved his street clothes, tugged on his jeans. "He just started taking some online classes through the tech, so he could use it. It's the least we can do."

When Raleigh looked at him again, the scowl was back on Chuck's face. "I guess you're not the flake I thought you were," Chuck muttered, then turned on his heel and stalked away.

Raleigh was tying his shoes when Mako joined him, her face set in concerned lines. "What was that about? Is everything OK?"

"Everything's fine." Raleigh rose and slid an arm around Mako's shoulders to drag her against his side. "Just keeping a promise. Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that I have you?"

Mako hummed and wrapped her arm around his waist, snuggled into his side. "Not since this morning, when you proposed marriage over eggs."

"They _were_ really good eggs," Raleigh teased. "Want to get dinner on the way home? I could go for some pad Thai."

"Deal."

* * *

"You want me to what?"

Raleigh managed not to laugh at Chuck's confusion, though it was a hard-fought battle. "Come out with us. Mako wants some butter chicken, so we're going to stop at Maharaja. You're welcome to join us."

Chucks confused expression deepened into suspicion. "What's the catch?"

Raleigh shook his head. "No catch. You just have to pay your own way." Raleigh shrugged into his coat and wound his scarf around his neck. "Listen, you don't have to come. If you want to join us, though, we'll be there. It's up to you."

* * *

"So, Ray," Chuck said a few days later, "how'd you end up moving in with Mako? Aren't you a bit old to be making friends with freshmen?"

Raleigh pointed at Chuck with a french fry. "Ageist. You saying I can't have younger friends, _kid_?"

Chuck flushed, but apparently satisfied his temper by stealing a fry from Raleigh's plate. "I'm just saying, it's a little weird."

"Nah." Raleigh pulled his plate out of Chuck's reach. "She answered my ad and we hit it off. I'll be here a while longer, anyway, if I'm going for my doctorate. Why not live with someone I love?"

Chuck frowned and looked at Mako, who giggled into her french dip, then back at Raleigh, who feigned innocence. "I thought you said you weren't dating."

Raleigh took his time to suck down some iced tea; they might be mostly-civil now, but he still wasn't above letting Chuck stew a little. "We aren't," he eventually said. "That'd be kind of weird."

"Like dating my brother," Mako agreed as she sopped up au jus with her sandwich. "I love Raleigh, but he is not my type."

"So it's perfect." Raleigh grinned and scooted his chair toward Mako's to sling an arm around her neck and tug her closer until they could touch their heads together. "Couldn't ask for better."

* * *

"No way. I can barely buy you as an astrophysicist. You expect me to believe that, too?"

Raleigh rolled his eyes. "Mes grands-parents étaient des Français.. Pourquoi devrais-je pas être en mesure de parler?" He grinned at Chuck's stubborn look. "N'ai-je pas vous dire que je n'étais pas un sportif muet?"

"Fine." Chuck gestured dismissively. "So you can speak French, whatever. You expect me to believe the rest, too?"

"Sei così scettici. Avere un po 'di fiducia nella mia magnificenza." Raleigh wound spaghetti around his fork, smirked as he brought it to his mouth. "Sei solo geloso."

Chuck looked at Mako, who simply watched him with a small smile. "How do I know you're not just making shit up to fuck with me?"

"Tabun watashi wa omoimasu. Anata ga shitteiru darou."

Mako elbowed Raleigh. "Tsumetaku shinaide," she chided. "Anata wa kare o konran saseru darou."

Raleigh attempted to mold his expression into contrition, only to fail when a grin broke across his face. "Gomen nasai."

"If you're _done_ ," Chuck grouched as he stabbed at his tortellini. "You're the one who invited me out; if you're just going to make fun of me, I can leave."

"Es tut mir leid. Es ist bedauerlich, ich weiß nicht Australian sprechen." Raleigh laughed and held his hands up in surrender when Chuck pushed back his chair and started to rise. "Really, I'll stop. Sit down."

Chuck frowned, but settled back in his seat and reached for his fork again. "You've made your point; you're so much more awesome than the rest of us mere mortals."

Raleigh sat back with a grin. "I didn't say I was _so much_ more awesome. Maybe just a _little_ more awesome." He laughed when Mako made a sound of complaint and poked his arm, and dug back into his meal.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're not going home for Christmas?"

Raleigh hummed at Chuck's indignation. "Can't afford it. Airfare to Alaska is expensive anyway, and booking last-minute at Christmas is even worse."

Chuck frowned. "Isn't Mako going to London? You shouldn't spend Christmas alone."

"He's right," Mako said. She looked at her orange beef with a small downturn of her lips. "I feel terrible, leaving you. You know Father would pay for your ticket if you wanted to come."

Raleigh shook his head. "I'd feel so guilty. I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, you know; I can take some time alone without breaking down."

"But it's _Christmas_ ," Chuck insisted. "You can come over to my place. The old man won't care—he's been asking how you're doing, anyway."

Raleigh blinked, flummoxed. "I don't want to get in the way," he said weakly, but caved a moment later when Chuck glared at him. "Fine. Text me the address."

* * *

Christmas Day, Raleigh found himself dithering at the door of his apartment. He scolded himself and paced into the living room, sat on the couch and picked up the TV remote. A few minutes later, he realized that he'd been staring at the blank screen, too busy fretting over dinner with the Hansens to focus on anything else. He pushed himself to his feet and wandered to the front door again, reached for his coat, pulled his hand away, and wandered into the kitchen.

Chuck had said they ate at five, but that he could come any time.

Was noon too early? He eyed the bottle of bourbon he'd bought—if nothing else, he could whip up some eggnog with it—and bit his lip as he considered, decided, changed his mind, and settled again.

Noon it was.

Raleigh bundled up and, gift-bagged liquor in-hand, headed for his car. The Hansens' house wasn't far, but it was far enough to give Raleigh time to change his mind and nearly turn around three times; only the thought of staring vacantly at his walls for hours more kept him going.

He pulled up in front of the address Chuck had given him. The house was larger than he'd expected and well-kept, the snow that had fallen the past night already neatly cleared from the driveway and sidewalks. Raleigh got out of his car and just took in the sight of the house for a moment; it had been years since he'd had a home like this, with a proper yard and neighbors with their own walls.

It surprised him, how much he missed it.

After a minute, Raleigh shook himself and made his way up the path to the front door. He rang the bell before his nerves had a chance to interfere again and fidgeted as he waited for the door to open.

Herc opened the door, a bulldog at his feet—though he was intellectually aware that it was Herc's home too, Raleigh had expected Chuck to answer. He took in the flour-streaked apron and stared a little too long, until he realized Herc was staring too. Lamely, Raleigh thrust the gift bag at Herc. "For you. I didn't know what you might like, so I guessed—I hope it's OK. I didn't know what else to bring."

Herc took the bag and moved out of the way, beckoned Raleigh through the open door. "You didn't have to bring anything but yourself, but thanks." He turned and Raleigh's eyes dropped to the apron strings accentuating Herc's trim waist, then jerked his gaze up again when Herc cleared his throat. "You can hang your coat in the closet there," Herc said without bothering to mask his amusement. "There's a mat for boots. Chuck's in the living room, finishing the tree. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you, sir." Raleigh grinned at Herc's sharp look. "Herc." When Herc nodded and disappeared through a doorway past which Raleigh could catch a glimpse of kitchen, Raleigh shrugged out of his coat and hung it in the closet, unlacec his boots and put them on the mat next to two other pairs, both well-worn. In just his socks, he shifted his weight and considered his options.

On the one hand, it _had_ been Chuck who had invited him.

On the other, preparing a holiday meal was a lot of work, and Herc could probably use the help.

He'd always thought of himself as a helpful sort.

Herc looked up from a sheet of what looked like gingerbread when Raleigh entered the kitchen. "Lost? Just follow the sound of Frosty the Snowman and you'll find Chuck."

Raleigh rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, I thought I'd help you, if you need it. It's been a while since I cooked anything more involved than waffles, but I promise I'm not completely useless."

Herc appraised him for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine. Here." He proffered a cookie cutter, moved out of the way, and gestured to Raleigh to take his place. "Start with these, and we can go from there."

"Yes, sir." Raleigh grinned as he took the cutter and looked down at the gingerbread. "I won't disappoint you."

"I know you won't, " Herc said, then, "Here."

Raleigh looked up just in time to get a faceful of fabric, pulled it away to the sound of Herc's snicker. He shook out the apron and tied it on as he feigned a glare, then retrieved the cutter he'd dropped on the counter and brandished it at Herc. "I see: I offer free labor, and you abuse me. I'll have to prove I'm not just a pretty face, won't I?"

"There's nothing wrong with being a pretty face." Herc cracked an egg and separated it with an ease that made Raleigh jealous. "I already knew there was more to you, anyway. Chuck never shuts up about you."

Raleigh flushed. "How'd you learn to cook? I can't see you spending your years in the RAAF in the kitchen—you have officer written all over you."

Herc laughed. "You're not wrong." He separated two more eggs before he continued. "I took classes, actually, after we came here. I needed a distraction and Chuck and I were both tired of frozen dinners, so it seemed like a win all around." He shrugged with an embarrassed quirk to his lips. "I discovered I liked to cook, so I just kept taking classes."

"Ever think of becoming a chef?"

Herc shook his head. "Yeah, nah. It's no fun if it's a job, right? And I don't need the money, so I'm fine just having a hobby." He cut off Raleigh's line of questioning when he fired up a mixer and turned his attention to whipping his separated egg whites.

They worked in comfortable silence after Herc had shut off the mixer; Raleigh cut out an army of gingerbread men as Herc put together the shell of a pavlova. Herc pointed Raleigh to the oven when his cookie sheet was full, and Raleigh slid the pan inside, set the timer, and leaned against the counter to watch as Herc piped meringue edges.

"So, Raleigh," Herc said abruptly enough to startle him. "Where did you learn to cook?"

Raleigh frowned and fidgeted with his apron. "Taught myself, mostly, after Mom died. Yancy—my older brother, remember?—barely had enough time to sleep, much less cook, so I started making the meals so he'd have something ready for him when he got home. I guess I just got to like it." He looked around Herc's tidy kitchen, eyed the various ingredients set out in anticipation of supper. "I never got this ambitious, though."

Herc chuckled. "It's not like I do this every day, yeah?" He brushed past Raleigh to deposit the shell in a small, counter-top oven next to him, then turned to study him. "Hell, I don't usually do this much every holiday—this year's special."

"Oh?" Raleigh cocked his head, wondered at his sudden shortness of breath as he struggled to appear relaxed. "Why's that?"

Herc shot him a look and his lips quirked, and Raleigh noticed for the first time a freckle that dotted the very edge of Herc's lower lip—a very distracting freckle. It took him a moment to realize that the freckle was moving because Herc was speaking, and Raleigh flushed. "Sorry, what?"

"You're here," Herc obligingly repeated. "Not every year we get guests."

"Oh." Raleigh deflated, not entirely certain why he was so disappointed, "That makes sense."

Herc shook his head with a grin and bumped his shoulder against Raleigh's. "Mostly because it's you, though," he said, then moved past him to pull a bucket full of turkey and brine out of the fridge. "Want to give me a hand, here?"

Between the two of them, they drained the turkey, dried it, and tucked it into the roaster. They fought over the sink to wash their hands, elbowed each other good-naturedly, and were laughing when Chuck poked his head into the kitchen.

"I thought I heard you, Ray." Chuck ducked into the fridge to grab a beer, offered it to Raleigh, then shrugged and used the edge of the counter to prise off the cap when Raleigh shook his head. "You keeping the old man company?"

"Don't call me that," Herc grouched, "and used a damned bottle opener. You weren't raised in a barn."

"I know—I was raised in a barrack." Chuck pitched his bottle cap into the trash and took a long drink. "I'm glad you're entertaining each other. Ray, I'll be watching a movie, if you want to join me."

"OK," Raleigh said, but Chuck was already out of the kitchen, bare feet almost silent on the wood floors as he returned to the living room. "I'm a bad guest, aren't I?" he asked Herc, once the whisper of Chuck's feet was gone.

"Not at all." Herc gripped Raleigh's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "You can go, if you want. I've got this in hand. Just be ready for _Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer_ , though—it's his favorite."

Raleigh chuckled. "I always preferred _A Christmas Story_ , myself. We'd watch the marathon every year; Yancy still loses it when Flick gets his tongue stuck to the flagpole." Raleigh leaned against the counter and curled his fingers around the edge. "I can go, if you want me to. I mean, if you don't need me."

Herc narrowed his eyes slightly, looked at his hand, still on Raleigh's shoulder. "Go on, Raleigh." He squeezed again, then pulled his hand away. "I've got this." Despite the encouragement, Herc made no move to put distance between them, very nearly crowded Raleigh between himself and the counter.

"Herc?" Raleigh asked after several moments of stillness. Was his voice usually that high? He glanced at the freckle at Herc's lip again, then dragged his eyes up to meet Herc's. "If I'm going, you need to move."

Herc hummed and was he...? He was. He seemed to sway toward Raleigh as one hand found the edge of the counter at his hip, his eyes—so blue this close—fixed on Raleigh's mouth. Raleigh found himself parting his lips, his breath hot between them, and leaned in to meet Herc—but Herc abruptly straightened and pulled away to put space between them. "Go on, Raleigh," he said again.

Raleigh licked his lips and levered himself away from the counter. He hesitated, studied Herc's profile, then nodded. "OK."

Chuck looked up when Raleigh made his way into the living room. _Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer_ was indeed on the television, and Raleigh grinned as he claimed the armchair adjacent to the couch on which Chuck sprawled, Max beside him. "I hear this is your favorite."

Chuck's scowl lacked its usual heat. "I like the classics. Got tired of helping?"

"Nah, I missed your stellar company. I was in the way, anyway."

Chuck arched an eyebrow, but he didn't argue and they lapsed into silence as they both stared at the television. When the movie ended, Chuck glanced repeatedly at Raleigh as he channel-surfed and finally settled on something about a dog that thought she was a reindeer. He turned the volume down, then tossed the remote onto the couch next to him and glanced at Raleigh again. "He never asks about my friends, you know. But he asks about you all the time."

"Sorry?" Raleigh frowned at Chuck, as Chuck resumed staring at the television. "What are you talking about?"

"The old man." Chuck looked down at his hands as he scratched under Max's chin, then back at the television. "Whenever I came home late because you, Mako, and I went out together, he'd ask me what we talked about. He never cared before."

"I'm sure he did," Raleigh began, but Chuck continued as though he hadn't spoken.

" _Raleigh_ this and _Raleigh_ that, _Raleigh_ , _Raleigh_ , _Raleigh_. I thought he was just trying to relive his youth vicariously, but... it's just you." Chuck picked up the remote again and ran his fingers over the buttons. "He thinks I have issues. He thinks I never got over Mom. I mean, yeah, I probably _do_ have issues, but not like he thinks—and he's probably as bad as I was. Maybe worse, 'cause he blames himself. He thinks I don't know, but I can tell."

Raleigh watched Chuck's carefully blank face and fought the urge to squirm; he had no right to hear what Chuck was saying. "Chuck, don't you—"

"I don't think he's been interested in someone since Mom died—definitely hasn't dated anyway. Never thought he'd be into guys, but whatever."

"I don't think he's into me," Raleigh said, but Chuck ignored his contribution again.

"He's happy when we're talking about you. I mean, it's not like he's giddy or anything, but he's, I don't know, relaxed or something. He's not even like that around Stacker, and Stacker's just about his only friend."

When Chuck paused again, Raleigh knew better than to speak and simply watched as Chuck patted Max's head thoughtfully.

"I guess what I mean is... if he makes you happy, too, go for it. He won't believe it, especially coming from me, but he deserves it. I'm going to go see if the cookies are done yet."

Raleigh stayed put as Chuck rolled off of the couch and left the room, Max at his heels. He stared blankly at the television and wondered at Chuck's speech—was he seriously telling Raleigh to hook up with his dad? 

When Chuck returned a few minutes later, the head of a gingerbread man stuffed in his mouth as he bit it off, Raleigh hadn't moved. Chuck rolled his eyes and settled down on the couch again, boosted Max up next to him as he grouched, "Look, dinner's not going to be much longer. If you're going to make a move, you should do it soon."

Raleigh cleared his throat. "Chuck, don't you think it's a bit creepy that you're trying to hook me up with your _dad_? I mean, he's a great guy, but it's a little weird that you're doing this."

Chuck rolled his eyes again. "If I don't, you two'll be dancing around each other forever. It's disgusting to see. Go on, now, get out of here. You're giving me a headache."

He didn't seem to have a choice in the matter, so Raleigh stood and headed back to the kitchen. He found Herc hard at work as he slid what looked like cheesy potatoes into the counter-top oven, then bent to check on the turkey.

Better men than Raleigh would've paused to admire the view, and Raleigh took it in for a long moment before he cleared his throat to announce his presence. He'd expected Herc to jump, given how focused he'd been on the turkey, but Herc only looked over his shoulder with a grin.

"Good timing. Those gingerbread men were feeling a little naked. Want to ice them?"

Raleigh followed the nod of Herc's head to the cooled gingerbread men and the bag of icing propped next to them. "I should warn you: I'm not much of an artist."

"I'm not asking for tuxedos, here. Just give them faces—dacks if you want, or whatever. Chuck prefers them to be as human as possible while he eats their heads."

Raleigh laughed despite himself. "That's just wrong." He picked up the icing bag and piped an uneven smile into the first gingerbread man. "Jaz always ate their arms and legs first—said she wanted to let them linger as long as possible." He paused and cocked his head as he considered. "She always was a bloodthirsty kid."

Herc only shook his head and turned his attention to another dish, so Raleigh threw himself into cookie decorating. The first few had only shaky faces, but he'd always been one to rise to a challenge, and soon the gingerbread men were being iced with increasingly ridiculous costumes. The astronaut didn't come out as well as he'd hoped, but the gigolo came out perfectly.

"What are you doing there?" Herc asked from directly behind him, and Raleigh squirted an extra large button onto his businessman as he startled. "What was that about not being an artist?"

Raleigh flushed and fiddled with the icing bag. "I never said I wouldn't _try_ , just that I wouldn't be very good."

Herc was silent until he came around to Raleigh's side and rested a hand over the hand holding the bag. "You don't give yourself enough credit," he murmured as Raleigh's breath caught. "You're better than you think."

"Herc," Raleigh said, barely recognizing himself in the low, raspy words. "I don't know—I usually think I'm pretty awesome."

Surprise flitted across Herc's face before he laughed. "It's good to know your ego is healthy, Raleigh. Looks like you're almost done there. Want to give me a hand getting down the plates?"

Raleigh nodded and mourned the loss of warmth over his hand as Herc moved away to open a cupboard. "Where's the table?"

"Don't use one." Herc held several dinner plates out to Raleigh without looking, face hidden behind the cupboard door. "No point when it's just Chuck and me; we serve in the kitchen and eat in the living room. I hope that's OK."

Raleigh retrieved the plates and put them on a bit of open countertop, repeated the process with bowls and glasses. "No complaints here—we usually only ate at the table when we were in trouble, growing up. I've mastered the art of eating on my knees." Herc gave Raleigh an odd look as he shut the door, brows raised and lips curled. Raleigh drew his own brows together and frowned. "What?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to explain it." Herc patted Raleigh's shoulder as he passed to check the potatoes and nudged him back toward the cookies. "Why don't you finish up?"

They worked the rest of the time, more or less, in companionable silence, until the dishes were neatly arranged for serving and the turkey carved. Herc stuck his head through the doorway to call for Chuck, and the three of them loaded their plates and made their way into the living room.

Chuck flopped into the chair Raleigh had vacated earlier and left Raleigh and Herc to share the couch. They settled at opposite ends and Raleigh tucked in to his food; his eyes widened at the first bite.

"This is _really good_ ," he managed through his mouthful—he knew Yancy would be appalled by his lack of manners, but Herc seemed more amused than anything as he smiled with satisfaction and dug into his own supper.

Conversation lagged as they ate—what little there was was Raleigh exclaiming over how good things were and Herc demurring. Raleigh raced Chuck back to the kitchen for seconds, debated thirds before he abandoned the idea on the grounds that he could already barely move. Chuck seemed to be of the same mind as he set his plate down for Max to lick and flipped through television channels again.

"So, Ray. Did you know Dad flew helicopters? He was even deployed to Afghanistan a couple times before he retired."

Raleigh glanced at Herc, and they shared a bemused look. "No, he didn't mention that."

"Mm." Chuck scratched his belly. "It's pretty cool, but not as cool as being multilingual, I think. Dad, did you know Raleigh speaks a ton of languages?"

"You'd mentioned that," Herc replied dryly, then turned to Raleigh. "Where'd you pick those up?"

"Mom was French; we used to spend summers at her parents' place—practically no one around there spoke English. We weren't far from the Italian border and half the kids I played with were Italian, so I kind of picked that up, too. I learned bits of other languages while we traveled when I was a kid, and I studied Japanese in school for something different to do." Raleigh shrugged and flushed as he stared at the television. "It's not that big a deal."

"I can't believe you travelled all over the world and never made it to Australia. You could've learned to surf while you were there. Did you know Dad surfed competitively while he was in school? Probably still has some of the trophies lying around."

"Chuck," Herc said, but Raleigh cut him off.

"Did you really? I always wanted to learn how to surf, but I was never hardcore enough to do it in Alaska." He twisted on the couch to face Herc, plate balanced precariously on his knee. "I can't picture you as a surfer."

Herc chuckled. "We weren't all stereotypes, you know. Hell, most of us were pretty normal—we just liked surfing. Didn't need a hippie haircut and shark-tooth necklace to surf well."

"Dash my dreams, why don't you?" Raleigh grinned and leaned in. "Don't suppose you have any pictures, do you? Proof or it didn't happen."

"Don't let him deny it," Chuck said as he stood and headed for the kitchen with his plate and Max. "He still has all his old albums."

Herc stared after Chuck, then looked at Raleigh with a sheepish slant to his mouth. "Sorry about that. I don't know what he's trying to pull, but you don't have to play along if you don't want to."

Raleigh hummed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I may have an idea, and I don't mind—I like hearing about you. I still want to see those pictures, though."

They'd been talking for a while when it hit Raleigh that something was still missing: Chuck had never returned, and the kitchen was suspiciously quiet. When he paused, glanced at the chair that Chuck had occupied, then back at Herc, Herc raised an eyebrow. "You think he's up to something?"

"Only one way to find out."

They made their way into the kitchen and found Chuck leaning nonchalantly against the wall just through the doorway, munching on another gingerbread man. "Took you long enough," he muttered around a mouthful of crumbs, gestured toward the sink with what remained of his cookie. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

Raleigh peered suspiciously at Chuck, but followed Herc a moment later. They jostled for room to deposit their dishes, elbowed each other with the same good humor as their earlier hand-washing attempts.

"Hey, guys."

Raleigh turned to see Chuck pointing upward with an evil grin, and followed the line of his finger to the sprig of greenery tacked to the ceiling. No, not just greenery—mistletoe. Raleigh looked at Chuck again, frowned at his increasingly-toothy grin, then turned to Herc. When Herc met his eyes and shrugged, Raleigh mentally sighed and leaned in. The press of their lips barely qualified as a peck, but Raleigh still had to fight the urge to press his fingers to his tingling mouth when he straightened.

"You're pathetic, both of you. Is that all the luck you want for next year?"

"I don't think that's how it works," Herc began as he turned toward Chuck, and Raleigh—

Raleigh felt Herc stiffen when Raleigh's hand at his arm pulled him back, shiver when Raleigh's other hand curved at his neck and held him as Raleigh caught his open mouth. When Raleigh touched his tongue to Herc's, a sound rumbled from Herc's throat that went straight to Raleigh's balls—and then the world was shifting as Raleigh was spun to press against the counter, Herc's hands hot on his back as he devoured Raleigh's mouth.

Good God, but the man could _kiss_.

Raleigh's hand slid to the back of Herc's neck and dragged him deeper into the kiss as his other arm wound around Herc's waist. Herc, for his part, seemed to have no complaints about the press of Raleigh's body against his as he kneed Raleigh's legs apart and settled between them, sandwiched Raleigh between the counter and the length of his body. Herc's hands roamed as they kissed: up Raleigh's spine, over his ass, farther down yet to hook under his thighs and heft him onto the countertop.

A glass clattering into the sink startled them both into breaking apart, and they regarded each other for a long, breathless moment. Raleigh licked his lips, grinned when Herc's eyes tracked the motion, and leaned in to murmur near Herc's ear, "Think maybe we should take this somewhere else?"

"Yeah," Herc replied hoarsely as he stepped back. His hands trailed along Raleigh's thighs as he moved away, until they caught behind Raleigh's knees and tugged. When Raleigh obliged and slid from the counter, Herc closed the distance between them to steal another quick kiss before he stepped back. "You're... OK with this?"

Raleigh blinked. "Am I OK with this?" He gestured at the bulge of his cock against his khakis, then looked at Herc through his lashes as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'd definitely say I'm OK with this."

Chuck must've learned his eye roll from his father. Shit, Chuck. Raleigh glanced at the spot where Chuck had been standing, found himself unsurprised and a bit relieved to see it empty. "We should definitely take this somewhere else," he said carefully, then grabbed Herc's wrist and tugged him toward the doorway. "Right now."

Herc shook his head but wasted no time in leading Raleigh to a neat, almost-spartan bedroom. He turned, mouth open to say something, and Raleigh pounced, sent them both tumbling to the bed. Herc laughed as Raleigh kissed him, smirked as he got his hands on the waist of Raleigh's pants, groaned when Raleigh's hands found his ass and dragged them together—and then Raleigh lost track of everything that wasn't skin on skin.

When they eventually returned to the kitchen, rumpled and replete, it was to find everything put away and Chuck at the sink with a growing stack of clean dishes. He glanced at them with a smirk. "I ate both your puddings. I think I earned them."

Neither argued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to [sorrowfulcheese](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese) for the super beta. Any lingering errors are mine, naturally.


End file.
